Thanks to: LunaEvanna Longbottom, Sunday91 & losergrl181 for the favorites!
And thanks to: Abohrition, Tizza94 and the Guest for reviewing my story! (:
And a huge thanks to the two guests who reviewed!
I want to say thanks to those of you who have read, followed, favorite and reviewed my story! Sending lots of love to you guys! :)
I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas and a wonderful new year!
Funny info – I named this chapter after a Doctor Who Episode! :D
This is by far the longest chapter I have written for this story - so proud!
~Enjoy
After we shook hands, Neeta said: "Abel you can't run off like that, this place is huge; you could get lost." She smiled sweetly at him. "But I was not lost! Em was right here!" Abel said; looked at me, with a huge smile plastered on his face. Neeta lightly shook her head. "Anyway, we have to go home now, before daddy comes home."
When she said that; I put Abel down, and ruffled his hair even more.
"Can I visit Em then?" Abel asked Neeta, not even looking at me for my permission to visit me.
"I'm sure you can Sweetie." She said. "But you have to ask daddy first; it might happen that he's going to visit her soon."
What?! Hopefully not! Well it would be fun to have Abel over, but Jax? No way!
Days passed by with me doing nothing at all. Okay, okay. I'll admit it – everything seemed to be happening these days; especially inside my head. To say it outright; my mind was totally fucked with the idea of Jax turning up, or if he even would stay away – and then when he would do it, and how it all would end up.
The day I met Abel and Neeta at the store, stood crystal clear in my mind. What would Abel say to his father or even ask him about?! And what about Neeta, wouldn't she be a bit suspicious about 'Jax and Abel's newest friend'? STOP IT EMILY! You're thinking too much, as always! And you're making nothing into something. Anyway that day, after I bought the white paint, I went to the store with the plan of painting the old chest of drawers. And it all went well; I stripped the paint of the furniture, and then waited for it all to dry completely. All of this happened in my workshop of cause, behind closed doors, because it smells terrible. Meanwhile I put some brand new old books on the shelves; it was some old books that I had ordered from Egypt. It was about the pharaohs in ancient Egypt, and it would fit perfectly with the old parchment I had hidden somewhere in the store. After about half an hour I went back to the workshop, and I found that the chest of drawers was completely dry. I turned the radio on; I knew this painting-job would take some time, and I needed the workshop to be comfortable.
After about an hour of painting; I heard a small knock on the door to my workshop.
"Come in…" I said; to be honest I was shitting myself if fear of it being Jax entering the door. But instead of the 6 feet 1 inches tall man entering; my 5 feet 3 inches landlady entered the door. I let go of a breath, I didn't knew I was holding – I felt relieved.
"Good evening Mrs. Smith." I said, it was around 11 p.m., and I thought that she had gone to bed long time ago, but no. "What can I do for you? Isn't it a bit too late?" I asked, both worried and curious while I smiled at her.
"That's the question I'm gonna ask you, Darlin'." Said the elderly woman, as she stood in front of me; her white short hair was kind of illuminating in the dark. The word "Darlin'" sent shivers down my spine; it reminded me of a certain biker, and it didn't sit well with me.
If my grandmother was alive, I'm sure she and Mrs. Smith would be close friends.
"Ain't it a bit too late for you to work? I think it is past your bedtime, young lady, especially if you have to work again tomorrow?" She stood in front of me; smiling at me – she wore gray sweatpants and a red long-sleeved blouse, and at her feet she wore a pair of slippers.
"I was just working on something I can sell, and letting some steam off." I responded. "I know it's late, but I'm done soon." Mrs. Smith was like an overprotective mom, or in my case: landlady.
"Sounds good, Sweetheart. I know you are trying to make money, but you have to sleep, and you have to live your life. You know that it's okay, if the payment to me is a bit delayed or even cancelled." She knew that my money was short, and she did everything to help me; invited me to dinner, let the payment be delayed, and once she even pretended that she already had gotten the money from me.
We stood there in silence; her looking around the workshop, and me looking a bit suspicious at her.
"By the way, who were the men, who were here some days ago?"
Oh, so that's why she is here! She's here out of concern, and curiosity.
Right after her question, the radio started playing a new song.
Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you
"What?!" I almost snapped at her. It was not my intension of doing so, but the lyrics of the song got to me in a way.
"The men, Darlin', who were they?" Mrs. Smith just acted like nothing had happened.
"Oh, umm… They are in a way friends of mine." I answered very absently; thinking of when those friends would show up.
"Alrighty then, what did they want?" Once again she was my protector… Kind of.
What did they want? I was thinking back to the late night, when Tig and Jax were here in my shop. I couldn't say "Well they wanted to use the toilet." Because she would know that it was the wrong answer, but I couldn't tell her the truth either. Mostly because what they were doing here is a crime.
It's the wrong time
For somebody new
It's a small crime
And I got no excuse
And is that alright? Yeah
Give my gun away when it's loaded
That alright? Yeah
If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it?
"Nothing!" I was hissing again, poor Mrs. Smith – she must have thought ill of me. "Sorry, I'm just a bit worn out. They wanted to check on me; they were friends with my dad, when he was alive."
"Oh, you don't have to say you're sorry. It's nice to have someone looking after you; I'm not quite young anymore."
She believed that Jax and Tig, and even SAMCRO were looking after me?! Hell, it had to be a fucking joke; they were only looking after their money, and to do so they had to check in on me. But as long as Mrs. Smith was thinking otherwise, then I didn't have to worry about explaining the truth to her.
She giggled a bit, not in a girly way, but in an elderly way, before saying: "He was rather nice looking, wasn't he?"
"What?! Who?" I looked at her in disbelief; not knowing who of them she meant.
"You know the tall one, with dirty blond hair." She said. "The other one had an awfully big nose!" She said it with no remorse; like she didn't care at all.
"Oh…" Was all I could make myself say. I couldn't say: "Yeah, he's smoking hot! A Greek God walking on earth!" Hell no; I won't be telling her that!
"Well Sweety, I'll be going now since you're done soon." Mrs. Smith said, as if she didn't know how to handle my 'oh'. Then she left closing the door after her. In some way I was glad that she left, I didn't want to risk her life too. I was alluding to the stuff the Club was storing underneath my feet, and above my head. The store could be a death trap waiting to snap, if what they were hiding was explosives or ammunition. It could as well be ammo and explosives, as it could be candy or tattoo-gear; for God's who am I to know?!
It was around midnight when I heard a low roar from a motorcycle; and stupid as I was, I believed that it was only someone who was passing-by. But I was wrong, oh so wrong. The roar stopped right outside my store, and thereafter I heard someone entering the store; I had been foolish enough not to lock the door after Mrs. Smith left, because I thought my work was over soon, but no.
The one entering stopped at the cashier desk to do God knows what; I heard something being placed.
There was a gap between the glass tabletop, and the cupboards – it worked like a table underneath the cashier table, where I could place my phone, keys, and other essential objects. And I was sure that it was there something was being placed. The person then walked towards my workshop, knocking three times on the door. I hesitated before I said "Come in" while the radio still playing.
I've been kind,
Doing all your commands
I've be running insane,
And then on it again
You press the buttons and feel
Like you're in danger
But what is that, it's me,
Who's risking my life
You change the level,
Now I've become a ranger
This life ain't funny
The door opened, and a certain dirty blond haired biker stepped inside my workshop. And all he said was:
"Working late, huh?"
To which I just nodded; I didn't know what else to say – and as grandpa said: "If you don't have anything reasonable to say, then it's better to keep your mouth shut!" – So that's what I did.
"I just went by to see how it's all going."
Hell you are! You want something or want me to do something for you! Watch your temper Emily!
"So how is it going?" He asked with the oh so sweet voice, but I knew it was fake, it was all fake. I knew he didn't do anything towards me in kindness. And to his question, I didn't answer. And to my silence he sighed in frustration, and massaged his temples.
"Darlin' we have to work this out somehow, we have to talk. This, this tension can't continue – it would be like hell. 'Cause I don't know how long it will take; half a year, five years, the rest of your life… For Christ sake you have to talk with me!"
I could hear the anger in his voice, and it was getting worse.
"You want me to have a pleasant talk with you, but I don't have anything pleasant to say to you. So I think it is better for me to keep my mouth shut!" He wasn't the only one getting angrier; I was too. "You and your precious club have made my store into a death trap, and all I can do is either wait for it to blow it all into smithereens, or try to run for my life!" I clenched my hands into fists, trying to be as composed as I could be. "I try not to think about it, for if I do I'll lose my mind completely. And become a broken shell of who I am. I would neatly be tucked away in the corner of Charming, until you need me to do something!" I took a deep breath, while unclenching my fists. "All you care about Jax is the money that my father owns you. You don't care if I go completely bonkers!"
In my outburst I hadn't noticed that Jax was stepping closer and closer to me. He had this menacing look in his eyes; telling me to shut the fuck up.
"I do care about more than just the money. I have a family to provide for, and a club to run! And you won't be tucked away like you think you do, it will attract attention and you will be exposed to lots of danger! You don't want that, won't you?!" The menace in his look continued in his voice.
I shook my head; I didn't want to make him even angrier than he already was.
"Great! And in fact I didn't show up here to argue with you." He voice was getting more pleasant, but not much. "I came here to go through some things with you, so we all are on the same page." Again I just nodded in accept, waiting for him to continue.
"Your phone please." He shoved his hand forward, with the palm facing upwards. I reached into my back pocket finding my old battered iPhone; I gently placed it in his hands.
"Follow me!" It was a direct order; only for me to follow. He went into the store, with me following him. He stood by the cashier desk, pulling out from the gap, a flip phone.
"Here!" He handled it to me, and I took it. "It's prepaid; that way nobody can trace your number."
"And what about my other phone?" I asked gently. I used a lot of money on that phone, when it was brand new of cause, and I would hate to see it smashed.
"Well, we have to get rid of it, and by we, I mean: I have to get rid of it!" He then pulled a monkey wrench out of his pocket, put my phone on the glass tabletop, and smashed it.
"NOO!" I yelled all the while he smashed my phone into tiny little pieces. "For God's sake Jax! As you said 'We have to work this out'. You can't keep walking in, smashing my stuff! Well I understand the thing about the phone, with all the tracing stuff. But you could have destroyed the SIM card instead of my whole phone!" For once I was trying to cooperate with him, but it wasn't going very well.
"I have typed my number in as number one in the speed dial, then Juice as number two, and in case you need to contact Tig; he's number three." He ignored what I said, and then went on with what I wanted to say. I don't know if he did this because I was right, or if he just wanted to get this over with.
"I'm sure Tig would be…" He didn't get to say anything more than that, before I interrupted him with:
"Don't; Jax don't!" I could see his signature smirk falter.
That night I was left with some cleaning, after my phone was smashed.
I felt like a bird kept in a cage, and I wasn't there to be kept me safe from the cat. Nooo, I was put in the cage, to prevent me from flying away.
I slept like hell; constantly having nightmares about having my life taken away; about being put down a hole, and then forgotten.
The lyrics used are "9 Crimes" By Damien Rice and "Hit N Run" by Christian Walz.
I'm totally open for suggestions, whether it's about my grammar mistakes, scenes you want to see, or songs you want me to use.
I'm considering writing is Jax's POV, but I don't know if I should – what do you think?
Any question? Just ask. I don't bite… Much :)
Follow, favorite and review! :)